The vehicle they were in lurched to a stop. Raymond looked to Scorpio expecting him to make a move, but he sat still, as before, watching Raymond.
"This is... what did you call it? The Glory Hole?"
Scorpio nodded. "It's a sex club, and you put one special v-chamber in it." He pulled the red curtain to the side, revealing a window.
Raymond gazed out on a vast dark space filled with transparent bubbles, floating lazily about, each one filled with light. Lights of different colors and intensity. Human figures moved within the bubbles, too far away to be seen in detail, but Raymond could guess what they were doing. He looked down, he looked up—the space appeared to be endless in both directions.
From beyond the bubbles came a sudden flash of bluish light, by which Raymond saw a distant landscape, a flat swampland, far below.
"Close your eyes!" shouted Scorpio.
Before he could do so, Raymond witnessed a blindingly bright flash of the bluish light. It filled the space outside the window, overwhelming his vision. He reflexively turned aside and closed his eyes, but the light seemed to burn.
"Holy shit that's bright!" he exclaimed. He opened his eyes after a moment, facing away from the window. Black spots floated in both eyes, leaving him nearly blind.
"So," he said, "we're in one of the demon's eyes, and that was a lightning strike?"
"Yes. The right eye of Iniquita."
Raymond rubbed his eyes. Slowly, he regained the ability to make out shapes. A bubble drifted past. In the center of the bubble, awash in orange light, a man and woman dressed in powdered wigs and frilly eighteenth century outfits were going at it. The man had the woman against a wall, the poofy skirts of her dress hiked up around her waist. They spun slowly as the bubble turned through space. From behind the woman, it looked as though her dress was pressed against a plate of glass.
"Okay, so where's this v-chamber?"
"It's one of the bubbles."
"One of the bubbles is a v-chamber?" asked Raymond.
"They are all v-chambers, but only one permits external access. The exterior of each v-chamber is a display of the people inside, including their virtual costumes and any items they're holding."
"Of course. For my voyeuristic pleasure."
"If a bubble is empty, its exterior plays a randomly selected recording of some previous session."
"Never a dull moment in Iniquita."
Scorpio arose from his seat and opened the brass hatch. He gestured Raymond through the opening. As Raymond stood, he felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder.
"Shit. The pain killers must be wearing off."
"The v-chambers are all capable of dispensing drugs. You should be able to request anything you want."
Raymond shook his head. "So, my god copy turned into a druggie?"
"An occasional user," replied Scorpio.
"How do I find the right bubble?"
"I'll take care of that."
Raymond stepped through the opening onto a black marble floor. To either side of him, a brass railing ran around the perimeter of what appeared to be a massive floating platform. Bubbles docked at breaks in the railing, a constant motion of arrivals and departures. The entire seemingly-endless space was filled with throbbing ethereal music. Across from Raymond, in the center of the platform, was a curved bank of mahogany lockers. Men in various states of undress were milling about, laughing and talking, boasting of the sexual conquests they had just made or were about to make.
Raymond watched a naked man step through the entrance into one of the bubbles. The door slid closed, restoring the bubble's seamless exterior, and Raymond could see the man alone inside it, doing squats, as he drifted off in the direction of another platform.
"Take your clothes off," said Scorpio, "and I'll call your v-chamber."
"Take off my clothes?"
"The ride ends with a shower. Plus, it's club rules. No clothes, no weapons, no solo flights, and the first one in the bubble gets to pick the theme."
Raymond raised an eyebrow, but it was lost on Scorpio, who turned, placed a hand on the brass railing, and spoke a command to call the special bubble. Raymond walked to the lockers. A couple of the men smiled at him congenially, most paid no attention to him. He chose an open locker and started to undress.
"Hi," said a man next to him. Raymond turned to see that the man, a sinewy naked white man with bleached hair, was extending his hand to Raymond. Not wanting to stand out any more than he could help, Raymond shook it. "Flip Johnson. Care to go in on a three-way?"
Raymond smiled wanly at the man. "Uh..." He swallowed. "Not today. I'm, uh, here for a little one-on-one, if you know what I mean."
"Sure, no problem."
Raymond proceeded to take his clothes off. He looked down at the body of his avatar. His torso was covered in an abundance of dark hair. Looking further, he saw scars across the tops of his legs and across the shaft of his penis. He winced at the thought of what must have been done to him. He remembered Salya's face and arms and realized the damage probably didn't end there.
"This place is fucking sick," he muttered.
He closed the locker. There appeared to be no lock on the door.
"Oh well."
He walked back to Scorpio. Still nobody paid particular attention to him. Apparently, his scars were wholly unremarkable.
"Here it comes," said Scorpio, looking down over the railing. "Oh look, it's Catherine."
Raymond looked down and saw a bright blue bubble headed toward him. Inside was a woman in a shiny blue dress, seated with her legs crossed. Her jet black hair rose up from her head, a towering coiffeur.
"Catherine?" asked Raymond.
"She was your first dominatrix."
"How do I get rid of her so I can... do what I need to do?"
"She likes tying people up. Just tell her to take her time and leave your hands free."
"What?" exclaimed Raymond. "Can't I just pause her persona or something?"
"Maybe. Try it. She's also good at deep-tissue massage."
"Right. By the way, is everything okay back in... the room?"
"Yes."
Raymond watched with trepidation as the bubble drifted up to the edge of the platform. "Why the hell did I put the v-chamber here?"
The bubble docked, and the door slid open. Catherine sat inside, in her blue dress, giving him a devilish look.
"Woof," said a man just to his left. A hand cupped his right butt-cheek and gave it a squeeze. Raymond jumped. He turned and saw that it was Flip Johnson.
"You sure you don't want to go in on that three-way?" asked Flip.
Raymond wanted to deck the guy, but he was afraid it might be against club rules. He glared Flip's cheesy smile off his face, entered the bubble, then had a thought. He turned to Flip.
"Sure, get in."
o-------------------------------o
Flip and Catherine kept each other occupied while Raymond took pain killers and then went into workstation mode again. He issued the command to awaken the mote array, and was relieved to find the network displays light up with activity. He was even more relieved to find that there were still several Reikover cleaner bots in service.
Raymond checked the time and date, wondering how long he had been unconscious. He must have been out all day and into the night. Already, nearly twenty-four hours had passed since he had last seen Anya. He had missed his first rendez-vous with her, of course, and his second window of opportunity was fast approaching.
He chose one of the cleaner bots at random, and used the same hack to take control of it. This one turned out to be sitting idle at a charging station, at the end of a long windowless room cluttered with boxes. The feel of the space was nothing like what Raymond had seen last time. It was bright, spacious, and messy. It looked like a low-rent laboratory space in the midst of being packed up.
From somewhere to his right, he heard two men talking.
"Anything interesting today, Fidel?" asked one.
Raymond
was surprised to hear English.
"The end is near for this one," replied the other, with a hint of a Spanish accent.
The two men walked into view. Both were older, in their fifties or sixties, dressed in slacks and short-sleeved shirts.
"You almost sound sad," said the first, the older and lighter-skinned of the two.
"Not sad," said Fidel. "A little sentimental, I suppose—he's the first one I've really had a chance to spend time with."
"Will he be done by the time we move? Not that it matters, I guess."
"Yes, with time to spare. The comet hits in just a few hours."
A few hours?
"What's Henry's take? Is he satisfied with R2? Do you think there will be many more?"
"You know," said Fidel, "it's hard to say. I'm sure Henry will want us to instantiate another Raymond when we get to the new lab, just to make sure the hardware is all still good. But I'm not sure what he gets out of all the time watching and interacting."
"It'll be nice to have him out of our hair awhile, so we can conduct the experiments in a more rigorous fashion. He'll be in London, what was it, three weeks?"
As much as Raymond wanted to keep listening, he had to try another cleaner bot—this one didn't seem to be in a good place to reach Anya. He decided to keep his connection with this one open, in case he had to come back to it. Leaving it sitting in the charging station would draw no attention. He checked the signals of the others, scanned them looking for information that might help him choose one, and ultimately concluded that picking one at random was really the best he could do.
The next one he chose turned out to be right next to the first one, also on the charging station. He left his connection open to this one, too. A glance at the clock showed that he was now running a couple of minutes late—he needed to hurry up and find a way to meet Anya.
"Third time's a charm."
He chose another, and was immediately pleased with his choice. His view was filled with a white sunlit wall—he was clearly outside. Within a few seconds, he had his bearings. He guided the bot to the patio where he had first heard the tink of spoons in teacups, just in time to see Anya headed in through the same door he had entered last time. He flew the bot across the deserted patio, through the door and down the hall after her. She must have heard the whirr of the bot approaching—with her hand on the knob of a door, she turned and paused, looking straight at Raymond. She then opened the door and stepped through, leaving the door open long enough for him to get through. Raymond scanned the small room briefly, checking for other people. It was a small wood-paneled office, with a tall open window and a closed door in the corner. Anya crossed to the window and closed it.
"Tell me it's you," said Anya.
"It's me," said the bot in its cheery voice.
"Oh thank god. Every time I see a cleaner bot, I keep looking at it, hoping for some signal that it's you. It's driving me out of my mind. And you won't believe everything that's happened. Where have you been?"
"I was nearly killed by a meteorite," announced the bot pleasantly. "In a few hours, the comet will hit, and I'll be dead."
"A few hours!" exclaimed Anya. "Oh no. There might not be enough time."
"For what?"
"Wait. First, R1 set things up so you should be able to contact my v-chamber directly. I think he was kind of jealous, but—"
"R1?" interrupted Raymond.
"R1 is the other copy of you, the one I'm working with. I can explain all that later. Check for a direct v-chamber connection. He said you would recognize the signal."
Raymond looked to the network traffic display. Sure enough, there was a direct session invite.
"Got it," said Raymond. "See you there."
He guided the cleaner bot underneath the desk and put it into local cleaning mode, so it would be inconspicuous, and left this bot connection open along with the others. He then initiated a session connection with Anya's v-chamber. His workstation environment was replaced with a sun-filled living room, brightly decorated, with windows on three sides. All three windows looked onto a lake. He appeared to be in some sort of floating home. Flip and Catherine, thankfully, were gone.
Anya appeared out of nowhere, seated on the long orange sofa in front of one of the windows. She was wearing a broomstick skirt and a long sweater. She jumped up and gave him a hug. Raymond held her tighter than ever before.
"Okay, we don't have much time" said Anya, gently backing away. "Brody thought you might be able to—"
"Brody?" asked Raymond. "She's involved?"
"Yes! Isn't that great? R1 managed to get external access and contact her. She thought you might be able to catch Henry with his guard down. Did Fidel give you the recording switch?"
Fidel... of course—fgonsalez!
"I have the switch," responded Raymond. "Not on me... crap, it must be in my pants."
"You're... not wearing pants?"
"No no, I am. This avatar is. But my real pants... oh, never mind. How does Brody fit in?"
"Right, okay—I'm sorry, so much has happened, I forgot how much you don't know. R1 managed to hack Fidel's account—"
"Who is Fidel?"
"Fidel... Fidel used to work on my team, then left, supposedly to take some time off to be with his father, but it turns out he really went to work on the secret project where they restored you from the original mental backup. Son-of-a-bitch had another NBC after all—Henry, I mean, not Fidel. Anyway, R1 hacked Fidel's account, and it turns out Fidel has been doing some of his own research on Henry, and Henry apparently has a lot more going on than anyone knows. We think he's involved in some sort of underground political stuff in London, some kind of subterfuge to stir up civil war in South Africa. Maybe more. I can't believe I've been working with this monster."
"And Brody?" persisted Raymond.
"So R1 found evidence that Henry was up to something big, and he was worried about me, so he captured what he could and contacted Brody to ask for help. And she got in touch with me, and she's been great! It turns out she's been part of a related investigation for months. They've been trying to put together various pieces, and it seems like Henry might be the key to it all. Apparently, he was high up at the FBI, with unlimited surveillance access, and there are signs that he tampered with a lot of surveillance records—satellite surveillance and stuff. And if you put it all together, there's a pattern. It all seems to relate to underground political activity. Terrorist plots, coups, training of insurgents. There's a pattern of concealment, like he's been covering the tracks of people stirring unrest throughout the world. For years. Maybe decades."
Oh my god—this must be Manolo's contact on the inside.
"Does R1 know about all this?" asked Raymond.
"Not yet—not all of it."
"Tell Brody there could be a connection with Manolo."
"Manolo?" asked Anya.
"Underworld guy. He said he had FBI connections, and he could clean up the surveillance records that linked me to the Svensson property. And now Henry has hardware that would have been seized by the FBI as part of the investigation."
"Ohhh... it sounds like you might be onto something. But Jacob Falls was the one who did the satellite surveillance cleanup for you. He was found—"
"Anya," interrupted Raymond, "you have to get out of here. You're in way over your head."
"No—I mean, I will, but not yet. Brody thinks you might have a chance to catch Henry with his guard down. To record him saying things he wouldn't say to anyone else, because he thinks he has you completely under his control. And Fidel's helping us. He's closely monitoring the recordings, and he's going to grab anything incriminating and get it to Brody right away."
Wow—I didn't know Eddie had it in him.
"This all happened in the past twenty-four hours?" asked Raymond.
"No, apparently it's been going on some time. R1 was just trying to protect me. He's been gathering information for over a week, but when he realized what he had on his hands, he k
new he couldn't deal with it all himself. But listen, if you get a chance to get information out of Henry, give it your best shot—if we can nail him, we might be able to stop his plans to foment civil war in South Africa. Raymond, you could stop a war before it starts."
"What makes you think Henry's not listening to this conversation?"
"Fidel says he's paranoid about internal surveillance. He doesn't want any record of his own actions. But he overlooked the Nurania recordings."
"Did Fidel tell you what they're trying to accomplish with whatever experiment they're doing on me?"
"I think Henry plans to upload. He talked to me early on about replicating the scanner we had at the old lab, and then never mentioned it to me again. He probably plans to upload into the NBC you're in right now, and he wants to make sure it's safe to reuse it. Which it isn't, in my opinion. I don't think the neural flush—"
"Anya," interrupted Raymond. "I love you."
"I know. R1 keeps telling me that. He built a model of me in his new v-world, which frankly gives me the creeps."
"No, you don't understand. I'm not talking about infatuation. You are life to me. Nothing else means anything. My love for you is the greatest emotion I've ever felt. If I knew you loved me as much as I love you, I could die happy."
Long pause.
"And why do you keep calling the original Raymond R1?"
"Oh, R1 isn't the original Raymond. R1 is the copy of you I'm working with."
"The one you thought was controlling the cleaner bot at first?"
"Yes. There's R, which was you before you scanned yourself—your original organic self. Then there's R-sub-0, the first upload copy, and R-sub-1, which is the copy here at the lab. And now I guess you're R-sub-2. Or R2, for short."
"There are two other copies of me?"
"Yes, apparently. Well—"
"And you created a nomenclature to keep them all straight?" asked Raymond.
"Yes. For the legal papers, originally, but I've found it useful for my notes as well."
"Legal papers?"
"Yes. Oh, you don't know any of it, do you. Okay. How to make this story quick... Well, R scanned himself, was of course destroyed in the process, and everybody thought that was it. But R0 uploaded into a computer at the Svensson property, and lived in Nurania for a while with no Net access."
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